The Arcane War

  The Arcane War

  By Tam Chronin

  The Arcane War Copyright © 2019 by Mary E Simon. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Joshua Stomberg

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Tam Chronin

  Visit my website at www.tamchronin.com

  Independently Published

  To the most important men in my life,

  Bryce, Adam, Richard, Liam,

  And my Grandpa Alan,

  I would have slayed gods

  for any one of you.

  Thank you all for being you.

  Contents

  The Arcane War

  Chapter One

  Marked for Death

  Chapter Two

  Chaos and Confusion

  Chapter Three

  Searching for Answers

  Chapter Four

  Adrift

  Chapter Five

  Minor Impositions

  Chapter Six

  Acts of Desperation

  Chapter Seven

  Escape

  Chapter Eight

  The Price of Knowledge

  Chapter Nine

  Subterfuge and Sabotage

  Chapter Ten

  Smoldering Embers

  Chapter Eleven

  Fanning the Flames

  Chapter Twelve

  The Fall of Anogrin

  Chapter Thirteen

  Refugees

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gathering of the Armies

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Beating of the Drums

  Chapter Sixteen

  Vengeance

  Chapter Seventeen

  The Arcane War

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ends and Beginnings

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also By Tam Chronin

  Chapter One –

  Marked for Death

  Aral Tennival dipped her quill in the ink, watching it drip back into the well. There was a lecture going on, and she had half a mind on it, but the pitch-black ink held her attention longer than Master Lanrin's monotone.

  Dip. Drip. Dip. Drip.

  Thera kicked the side of Aral's foot.

  Splat.

  Damn it. Right on the paper. Aral blotted the drip, thankful it didn't blot out anything important. She'd have glared at Thera, but her friend was only looking out for her. This was supposed to be an important lecture, so Aral had asked Thera to help her keep focused. It wasn't her fault it wasn't working.

  There were too many late nights, lately. Too many sleepless nights. Too many nightmares.

  Aral scribbled a title on her page. Transportation. So far, it was a history lesson. Horses. Carts. Wagons. Carriages. Boats. Ships. All of it mundane and resoundingly boring.

  If only she could be in two places at once. One version here, taking notes, learning the boring fundamentals. The other version running through the streets of Anogrin with her brother Naran, and her best friend, Davri.

  Unfortunately, magic didn't work that way.

  She should have skipped class to spend time with Davri and Naran. They were going to see the Temple Magica, the grandest structure ever built.

  Aral was stuck learning about how wheels had revolutionized the world.

  So much excitement.

  From his first glimpse of the Temple Magica, Naran was awed.

  There were other temples to other gods that they'd passed. They were grander than the temples had been at home. The very first one they'd passed, he'd turned to Davri, his guide for the day, and asked, "Is this it?"

  Davri laughed and shook his head. "You'll know it before you see it."

  Now, Naran knew what Davri meant.

  There was a shimmer in the air above the buildings they walked past.

  The shimmer surrounded what looked like an enormous violet jewel in the sky. The jewel drifted in an arc overhead. Two other jewels in crimson and teal followed the same path, circling the apex of a golden spire that could be seen for blocks. Naran didn't know what it was at first; he'd glimpsed this spire when he'd arrived in Anogrin. He'd gone directly to the University Magica, around the curve of the mountain Anogrin had been built into the top of. If not for that mountain, the spire might have been visible from the campus.

  "I was told that the architects who built the temple had something more ordinary in mind," Davri said.

  Naran looked at the approaching corner with anticipation. As they walked, the floating jewels they'd seen in the distance seemed almost overhead. Over the sounds of the street vendors and traveling peddlers, he could hear a gentle tinkling of bells, like wind chimes, though the air was still. The boulevard ahead was broad, and he could already see crowds milling along it.

  Davri leaned close as he continued, so he would be heard over the din. "The priests, however, wouldn't accept anything less than complete awe from those who beheld the goddess's temple. Magic is anything but commonplace."

  As they turned the corner Naran froze in place, eyes wide.

  He wasn't alone.

  The temple was elegant and impossible. It grew seamlessly from the ground in graceful lines and curves that blended solid stone with golden veins and sprinkles of crystals that scintillated and glowed with inner light. Naran was an art student, and he'd asked Davri to bring him here so that he could learn. Instantly, his mind was overwhelmed. His fingers itched to pick up charcoal and his drawing tablet. He could sit there all day, sketching the opulent beauty of it all. The outline would be simple. The details would be impossible, though. The structure breathed and pulsed like a living thing, though it was still as stone. Naran would never be able to translate that feeling onto something as static as pigment and paper. He imagined that even the best of artists would go mad, trying to capture what made it such a spectacle.

  Naran was only nine. He shoved his hands in his pockets. For now.

  He almost started walking again, but something new caught his eye. Or, rather, he realized his eyes had been deceived. Something that looked like a giant tree was growing from a point within the Temple Magica. The spire that had caught his eye from afar was floating at least a foot above the canopy of that tree. His eyes had filled in supports at first, but there were none. It floated above the tree.

  The tree itself should have been incongruent with all of the artifice. The flow of the curves made the tree seem an architectural trick. But, no, it was a real and living thing.

  A breeze stirred the leaves of the tree. As they caught the light of the sun, the leaves shifted from green to gold. One of the overhead jewels occluded the light from the sun momentarily, and every leaf became that jewel in miniature.

  It was the essence of magic made manifest in this world.

  "Travel by magical means," Master Lanrin's voice filled the lecture hall, "has always been the forefront of magical research. The ability to move from one place to another faster than someone else is, of course, a great tactical advantage in battle. The course of history has been carved by mages who understand this."

  Aral furrowed her brow. She felt uneasy at the thought that any one of them could have such a vast effect on the world without even using some sort of destructive spell, like calling down a column of fire at someone. Something as simple as bein
g able to move faster than the other side could make that much of a difference?

  "Most of you here are more concerned with theory than application. That's to be expected when you're young and idealistic, and it is not a failing. Hard truths are part of your education here, however. Battles and wars sound distant and ominous from our perch up here at the top of Mount Selyst. We've seen peace for longer than any of your lifetimes, but the lowlands are different. One never knows where any one of you might get hired after your time here. Knowing how important it is to be able to transport any amount of people from one point to another might lead to more lucrative wages in your future. Or, your own survival."

  A few students tittered, Aral among them, but most were still taking notes without thinking too critically about what was being said.

  Master Lanrin cleared his throat and continued. "As far back as the first elves, mortals have tried to use magic to accelerate transportation. Ancient elves, long before the gods created humans, began by enchanting boots to propel the user faster, with as much effort as walking. These boots were clumsy, awkward, and of limited usefulness, but they worked. Centuries later they created a network of enchanted paths that shortened travel by weeks, if not months. Those quickly became corrupted, however, and putting something similar in place has not been attempted again. Less than a handful of elves live today who know the secret of how that massive spell was worked.

  "Teleportation and portals are ideas that have been hinted at in literature and tales. Many spellsmiths have wasted years of their careers working on the theory of instant travel across distances with nothing to show for their efforts in the end. I am not saying that this is dead end research, however. Pair up with your study partner and next week we will discuss what ideas you can find about why this elusive magic is still worth pursuing. Go beyond the obvious wish fulfillment. I want facts, examples, and documents. Those who have tried to create a reliable spell for this have not all been ignorant fools. So, explain to me why, despite failure, they keep trying."

  Davri put a hand on Naran's shoulder. "It's stunning, especially the first time you see it. I'll never tire of watching the colors dance."

  "Is it just as pretty on the inside?"

  "Yes, but in a different way. The outside is show and spectacle to draw attention. The inside is subdued, focused on learning and worship, but just as beautiful."

  Naran couldn't imagine it. Wasn't subdued just another way of saying boring? How could something boring be just as beautiful? Well, there was only one remedy for that. "Okay, let's go."

  They walked together, hand in hand so they wouldn't be separated. Naran took strength from that. He was excited. He was also scared.

  The last time he'd been to any temple had been at home.

  Sacrifice the boy. One child, and the gods will bless your family with long life and prosperity.

  His parents were sick. They'd sought intervention from the god of healing.

  The gods need proof of your faith, Master and Mistress Tennival. If you are not willing to sacrifice your son, the god of healing cannot cure your disease.

  Naran tensed all over. It was as if he was there, listening to the priest talk to his parents, talking over Naran, as if he wasn't even there.

  It's your choice, of course. But if you don't give up the boy to the gods, both of you will die.

  No. Best not to think of that. Best to not remember at all.

  "Have you heard the story of the god of death?"

  It was as if Davri had heard Naran's thoughts. It brought him up cold as they reached the steps before the temple.

  Naran shook his head. "Mom and Dad didn't talk much about the gods." Damn it. There was a quaver in his voice. He'd been trying to be strong and be brave. Just like Mom had told him to be.

  "It's all my parents ever talked about," Davri said with a rueful grin. "You're probably better for not hearing all the myths and stories, to be honest. Some of them could be very dry. I think you'll appreciate this one, though."

  "Okay." Naran smiled a little. It might have been more of a grimace. He was trying.

  "The goddess of magic was the mother of the god of death. He and his brother would listen to her and defer to her when they were young. They were watching. Listening. Learning.

  "The gods were still creating all the races of the world. There were only elves, sprites, mermaids, and imps. The first of those races were all creations of the gods, in union with the goddess of magic. They lived, they had children of their own, and the years didn't touch them with age or an end to their lives.

  “The goddess of magic began to wonder if this was a good thing. Eventually they'd overwhelm the land if they had too many children. The other gods and goddesses wouldn’t listen to her concerns. The world was vast, and they were still angry at her for setting them against each other when those races had been created.

  "The other gods were having godly children with each other or on their own, as gods do. One of those children was the goddess of birth and growth. The goddess of magic knew that there had to be a balance to this new force. She had two children on her own, with the intent of bringing forth that balance.

  "The goddess of birth and growth met this baby god of death. The other gods had cautioned her not to go, sure it was a trap since the goddess of magic had intended balance. Instead of being afraid she smiled and kissed his cheek. She said that the god of death would be her favorite.”

  "What about his brother?"

  "The god of secrets? That's a story for another day. Today you're thinking of death."

  “And death is bad, isn't it?” Naran asked. He'd been so wrapped up in the story that ascending the steps had been an afterthought. Davri had walked, Naran had followed, and now they paused at the top. “Wouldn’t she hate him?”

  Davri shook his head. “They created a place together where the souls of the dead could rest and remain, never to be forgotten. A place where they wouldn't suffer hardships that physical bodies endured. So, every death is a birth in another form.”

  “So, Mother and Father are with the god of death, and they’re okay now?”

  “Yes,” Davri said, smiling as they walked through the enormous arch that brought them into the temple proper. “It’s sad that they can’t be with you, but they haven't been destroyed. That’s why there is a god of death, so that there are ends to go with beginnings, and so—“

  Aral turned to Thera and grinned a bit. "This should be fun," she said. "Do you have any ideas where we should start with this?"

  "Everyone else is going to go with Dernad's Miracle," Thera said, gathering her papers and putting them in her book bag as she thought. "He never replicated it, but it was obviously teleportation, wasn't it?"

  "There's no proof. Just personal testimony from people who may have been swayed by money, or the desire to be a part of something great. My father always said it was a dead end. We're probably safe in skipping that line of research." Aral started grinning from ear to ear. There was something else she had in mind. "Dernad's story is popular, but what about scripture?"

  "Scripture? I don't remember any passages about people popping from one place to the next."

  "Not people," Aral said, eyes sparkling. "Gods. They appear and disappear all over the place, and it's not just in what's been written. People who have encountered the gods in person, like priests, have said that gods teleport whenever they feel like it."

  "Hm…" Thera's brow furrowed. "Counterargument: what if they're not teleporting? They could be using illusion, or they could be creating and destroying little puppet bodies. They're not mortal, so they're not stuck in one body, right?"

  "I don't know," Aral said. "That's why it's going to take research. We'll look in the library first, but they probably won't have anything. I'll ask Davri if he can set up an interview with one of his priest friends. I'll bet no one else will think of that. If gods can actually teleport, and use magic to do it, why can't we?"

  "I like that," Thera said, smiling. She blinked
a moment later. "Davri and Naran are at the temple right now, aren't they? Do you think they'll see a god while they're there? I've heard that it happens once in a while. Wouldn't that be amazing?"

  It was possible. Not likely, but possible. "At Temple Magica? The only one who would dare appear there is the goddess of magic herself." As a mage, that was an almost overwhelming thought. "I don't think amazing is a strong enough word. I'd probably faint, or trip over something, or just make a fool of myself."

  There was a heavy scent of incense mixed with burning candles. Aral whipped her head around, confused. This was a theory class, books only. Who was casting in class?

  "When the world was new, the gods gave it the name 'Kayan'. They saw that it was formless, pulled from the chaos of creation, and desired to make it their home. From the chaos they created mountains and fields, oceans and skies. There were five of them at first, harnessing the five forces of creation, creating Kayan to the vision of their dreams."

  Aral couldn't see who was talking, but the lecture hall had disappeared around her. There were crowds of people around, creating noise with their mouths, words that blended together to obfuscate the meaning behind the conversations around it.

  The walls were marble and gold, opening to a large space with benches…pews. It was a temple, and a grand one. The vaulted ceiling made every voice carry and mingle in a cacophony. Above the din that one voice continued, the only sound that her mind could parse from the rest.

  "Bogradan had dominion over the winds and the skies, giving the breath of life and the gift of air to Kayan. Atherva had dominion over the seas and lakes, marrying Bogradan and bringing to the world the rains. Atherva’s sister was Egridaea, goddess of the earth, and with the help of the others sprang all life from her domain. She loved Fotar, god of fire, above all."

  It was like scripture from the holy texts, but there were names. In everything Aral had read the names of the gods were omitted. They were referred to only as "god of" or "goddess of".